Of Canary Yellow and Dartguns
by Thoughts of a Fangirl
Summary: We all know there is a fine line between love and hate. So fine in fact, that Tris and Four, don't know which side of it they are on. Throw in some pastels and paintball fights and you're sure to find the lines blurring. Tris and Tobias, Modern Day.
1. Of greyness and phone calls

Our first chapter fanfiction (is that what it is called?) Anyway, this time it's modern day FourTris.

We have views! Thank you so much for all the support guys!

**Disclaimer: We don't own anything. We are just trying to soothe our aching fangirling hearts.**

* * *

Monday mornings were a time of coffee cups and near-misses and rushing down stairs. They were a time of sloppy lipstick and mismatched clothes. So Tris was pretty proud that she could navigate them.

Well better than her roommate anyway. Christina was a real mess when it came to mornings. Like a whirlwind of clumsiness and yawns. Except worse.

Mind ablaze, Tris headed to work. She had a thousand new ideas, all begging for her attention. She was so excited about her new client. She couldn't wait to make his house a masterpiece.

Pastels, glass lamps, fabric boards, mood boards. She could barely contain herself.

Interior designing was what she loved. It bought that feeling of change, of making something new, making something better than it was before.

It helped her escape her demons. Change was what she needed to stop living in the past and focus on the present. Interior designing was like a shot of energy, that recharged her soul, leaving her refreshed.

Metaphorically, of course.

With that in mind she turned into her office: Abnegation and Co.

* * *

Abnegation and Co. was amazing. It was a state-of-the-art, highly functioning, well-oiled machine, with only one goal in mind: to provide and serve its customers to the fullest. Tris just wished it wasn't so... monochrome. Everything was grey. Everything. Tris thought that for an interior designing firm, it was pretty ironic that their colour scheme was so incredibly boring. She wanted to rush through the halls with a paint gun and get rid of all the greyness. Someday, maybe she would.

She felt trapped inside the office. Maybe it was the colour scheme. Maybe it was the fact that she just didn't belong. She loved her job, but she wasn't sure that was able to fulfil the company goal; she wasn't sure if she was really cut out to make people's homes practical and easy to use. Abnegation and Co. focused on practicality and believed a house should be highly functional...and nothing else. They didn't value aesthetic quality and didn't believe in a house being representative of a person's personality. She wanted to make houses colourful and crazy and fun. She felt a home should be a place where you could be grounded, yet a place you could lose yourself in. A home should not just be a sanctuary but be a beautiful place to get lost, a place full of possibilities. A place where you could be yourself in, a place to be free. She felt trapped, by the greyness, by the selflessness and maturity that the workers displayed. She felt confined.

It was because she knew, she would never be that good.

Then again, maybe she was wrong. Abnegation and Co. was a highly successful business and she valued all the experiences she had there.

* * *

Heading into her (grey) office, Tris heard her phone ringing. This was a rare occurrence, and so she was jolted out of her stupor. She looked at the _Unknown Caller on _her screen. Feeling reckless, she picked it up.

"Hello," she half-whispered tentatively, "Tris Prior speaking."

"Oh, Tris Prior, I have been waiting to talk to you. It is a pleasure of the highest order to be able to be in the virtual presence of such greatness."

"Thank you?"

"Oh, I should be the one thanking you, Miss Prior," the low masculine voice answered back.

"Um... Who are you?"

"Only your biggest fan."

Tris was really creeped out now. The voice had the cadence of a bed time story, it fell and caught in all the right places. But there was an edge to the voice, like a piece of metal was scraping against it. It unhinged her, and she rethought her words.

"And you called me because..."

"My company wants to hire you."

"You are aware I already have a job, one that I am perfectly happy with."

"But are you," the voice answered, and it had an element of stillness that shook her.

When she didn't reply, the voice spoke again.

"Miss Prior, I know your work. It doesn't fit with the Abnegation style and I'm sure you feel...confined at times."

Tris still didn't speak. This was some sort of weird coincidence.

"As I was saying, my company wants to hire you. Dauntless think you would be a fabulous inclusion to the team.

Tris gasped. Dauntless was Abnegation's main competition and she was always in awe of the houses they did. They were so...free. Free and unpractical.

Tris felt the need to sit down, before she fell of her own accord. Her knees buckled. She had wanted to work for Dauntless since she had first gotten into interior designing.

When she spoke, her voice was a discordance of nerves and stumbling.

"Uh, can I call you back," she finally managed.

Tris played it safe. She never jumped. She figured if you didn't jump, you couldn't fall.

But she was tired of being safe. Safe and grey.

She would have to leave her whole life behind, and she knew saying yes to the offer would be a turning point. She was standing at the edge of a precipice, and only she could dictate which way she fell.

Because she would fall. Both ways.

In Dauntless, though, she would be falling into the unknown.

And the thought excited her.

She would no longer be hemmed in by the value and ethics of Abnegation and Co.

And so, for the first time in her life, Tris jumped.

She jumped and didn't look back to see the consequences. Heck, she didn't even look forward to see the future. That would figure itself out.

"Uh, hello," she called the low masculine voice back.

"Miss Prior, what a pleasure to hear back from you, and so soon. I was just-"

Tris cut him of.

"I want to work with you."

"I want to work at Dauntless."

She cut the phone, and took a deep breath.

* * *

A.N.- I've wanted to write a FourTris fanfiction forever. Here it is. I know the first chapter's not much, but setting the scene and all that jazz.

Spread the love and read and review!

P.S. TFIOS comes out soon! I am going to be a mess. A mess of feels and tears and fangirling.


	2. Of idiocy and sports cars

OMG! Honestly thank you so much everyone, for your support. I'm posting this one early because of the state of joy I am in.

**Disclaimer: We don't own what you recognise. All rights belong to Veronica Roth.**

* * *

The past week had been a whirlwind. A whirlwind of chaos and packing and second-guessing and caffeine.

Lots of caffeine.

She was moving today, and there had been a rush to get everything done in the time frame they had. Christina had been a huge help, and so had her Mum and Dad. Though, there was something forced in their smiles, something a bit too bright in the way they laughed. Tris would find out what that was about later.

Right now she wanted to sleep.

She was just about to close her eyes, when she heard a knocking on her now-bare apartment. Everything was spinning and she could barely make out the person in front of her.

Then he spoke.

Tris cut him off half way.

"CALEB, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she just about screamed.

"I am checking up on my baby sister," he continued unaffected, "is there a problem?"

"I am NOT your baby sister, Caleb. I have never been nor will be _littler _than you in any situation."

"Well, baby sister-

Tris huffed, and made a strangled sound of dissent.

Caleb continued, "I was wondering why one Earth you think it's a good idea to throw away your life."

Tris stayed silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Abnegation is a perfectly respectable company, and has a highly successful record of customer service and annual sales," Caleb conceded. "Dauntless on the other hand," he stopped, at a loss for words.

"Mhm," Tris replied.

"Dauntless on the other hand, is a company built on shaky ground, full of dodgy people. There are hooligans there Tris, and I speak as you older brother when I tell you to rethink what you are doing to your life."

Tris pretended to think, and adopted a serious posture.

"I've given some serious thought to it Caleb, and I think you're right," Tris pronounced.

"You do?" Caleb asked, his voice bright with hope.

"Yes, this is MY life, and therefore **I** am going to choose what to do with it. Now move," she declared.

"You'll regret this Beatrice. You're still so young and fragile-

"Don't you _Beatrice _me. MY life, MY rules, My decisions, remember."

"Seriously Tris, I don't want anyone hurting you," Tris could sense the anguish in Caleb's voice and could tell he was serious.

"I appreciate your concern Caleb," she continued, in a softer voice, "but I need to do something for me, just this once. I need to be able to take care of myself, and I can't do that if you or Mum or Dad are constantly looking out for me. I want to fly, Caleb, and you can't be there to take my fall, if things go wrong. It needs to be just me."

"But it's so far, Trissy." The use of her childhood name caught her in her tracks. But she needed to do this.

"Bye Caleb, I love you."

And with that, she walked out the door.

* * *

So she had moved into her new apartment, far from home. And it felt good.

She settled down on her newly made bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Her dreams were a blur of colour and sound. They echoed each other and Tris felt like she was in a labyrinth of confusion. She woke feeling edgy. She could smell the change that electrified the air, almost as if it was a tangible thing.

She got out of bed and walked onto her balcony. The sky was ice-cream colours; raspberry ripple, peach melba, vanilla and boysenberry swirl. Her house was decent, and it screamed opportunities. With a few splashes of paint, and vintage cushions, it would be good.

Tris stood there, envisioning her future and enjoying the stillness that was hard to find these days. She was rudely interrupted by the loud honking of a car horn. Coming from the general direction of the front of her apartment building. Rushing down the stairs, she walked outside, ready to lecture the person honking about noise pollution.

Standing right there was a red sports car. It was smooth and streamlined. It radiated grace and a certain sense of calm that Tris envied.

She knew that car.

She shook her head. Why would she know a random sports car parked on her street?

She really needed to get a grip.

Remembering the lecture on noise pollution, she headed towards the car. She was stopped however, by the car making its way...to her?

The closer the car came, the more she thought there was something familiar about it. She knew that number plate; she had seen it before. _  
_

Recognition dawned on her, bringing with it a cocktail of emotion. Rage, anger, hurt, regret. The car awakened old memories, bought up things she had thought were buried.

And even as the car came closer, Tris knew who it was.

Four.

* * *

She was right. It was that incessant, annoying, pompous, jerk: Four. _Great, _thought Tris, _just what I needed. _

Four came closer, and Tris had no doubt now. This was the stupid jock from her high school days. The idiotic, insensitive, egoistical, boy whom she despised.

The stupid person whom she used to have a massive crush on.

Past tense though. He played with her feelings and then humiliated her in front of everybody. Any lingering feelings were ones of regret and pain. Not Love.

As he came closer, he smiled, recognition igniting his features.

"Well, well, well." If it isn't little Trissy."

Tris raged inside.

Definitely. Not. Love.

"Four," she managed, and even she could hear the controlled fury in her tone, "what are you doing here, honking so loudly, in front of my apartment."

Four frowned. "Wait ,you live here?" he said, confusion marking his words.

"Yes genius," Tris bit back. He was offending her. She knew it was no luxury mansion, but seriously. Did the guy not understand the concept of courtesy.

"Oh damn it," he huffed out. "Just what I needed. If this is some sort of sick joke, it is NOT funny" he half-shouted to the heavens.

"I'm not exactly happy to see you either, you know," Tris replied. She needed to maintain whatever dignity she could.

"No sunshine, you don't get it."

Tris started to protest against the nickname but he held up a hand.

"You were recruited by Dauntless a week ago, weren't you?" he asked hesitantly, almost as if he was afraid to hear the answer.

"Yes," Tris swallowed. How did he know?

"Well then, welcome partner. Eric assigned me to help you with your first client. I recognised the name, but I didn't think it would be you," he said almost casually.

As if this wasn't earth shattering news.

As if this wasn't life changing.

As if Tris wasn't about to die from shock.

As if, she wasn't going to have the rest of her life ruined by this first-class, sports-car driving jerk.

Tris screamed.

* * *

A.N. Hope that was alright.

Next chapter may be up soon.

Continue to read and review, it really helps us write.

Feel free to PM us, with any idea/suggestions/feedback. Lots of feedback, it helps create a better story.

Love you all, (that's a generalisation, cos otherwise it would be creepy.)

Thoughts of a Fangirl


	3. Of new clients and bad milk

SOOOOOOO...

New chapter guys. Yay! Not really happy with this though, another chapter might be up today.

Anyway, spread the love and read and review.

**Disclaimer: We don't own any characters. All rights to Veronica Roth.**

* * *

Tris was in a incredibly bad mood. Trust Four to make her feel like this. He just had to have been her partner.

Apparently, the fates were against them.

She drove to work in huff.

Her first day had been...slow. She had met everyone and was shocked at the difference between the two companies. Dauntless was so relaxed and welcoming. Abnegation could be quite intimidating and quite standoffish and inclusive. Tris knew they didn't do it on purpose, but they appeared that way.

She was glad for the change.

* * *

She was going to her first client's house today. Now the real work could begin. She felt butterflies take wing inside her stomach.

She was nervous, there was not doubt about that. But she wanted to prove herself. She wanted to show everybody that she was in Dauntless for good reason and that she deserved her position.

And with that she pulled into the driveway of her first client, ready to work.

And of course, he was there.

He was standing there, leaning against the doorframe. Whistling and projecting confidence and arrogance.

Arrgh.

She hated him.

Professional. She would be professional. She would put aside any feelings and prejudices that existed and start anew.

A new beginning.

"Hello, Four," she said, with a certain false cheeriness to her voice.

"Oh hello, baby doll," he said, with a smirk.

Tris silently screamed and glared back at him.

Professional, she could do this. _Deep breaths, Tris._

Suddenly the client walked in. She was a tall brunette, with a certain sense of beauty that Tris was jealous of. Her heavy footsteps echoed through the hall, arriving at their current location. She turned to Four, only to find him gawking at the brunette.

Something stirred inside of Tris. She suddenly had the urge to strangle the tall, brunette. As fast as it arrived, it was gone. The milk in her coffee must have been slightly off.

The client introduced as Nita. She had a friendly, easy smile, yet it didn't reach her eyes, where something sinister could be seen.

Tris really needed to get a grip.

As they walked in to the house, Nita purposely brushed up against Four. The same feeling overcame her, turning her stomach into a mess.

Definitely the coffee.

* * *

A.N. What do you guys think we should do with Nita. Right now she's just there to make Tris jealous, but she could become more than that.

R & R

Love you,

Thoughts of a Fangirl


	4. Of canary yellow and endearments

**Thanks for all your reviews, they really inspire us to keep writing. I know it's cheesy but we really couldn't do this without you.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own anything. We are just trying to soothe our aching fangirling hearts.**

* * *

They wandered through the house, discussing possibilities. Tris was surprised at how good Four was. He had a freshness about his ideas, and all his suggestions were good ones.

Except when it came to yellow. Especially a certain shade of yellow...

* * *

Tris had been looking around the living room, trying to decide on a colour scheme. Something fresh and new, like springtime. She looked through her colour pamphlet and her eyes settled on a muted canary yellow. It was perfect. She was just about to circle it when Four looked over her shoulder.

He made a very loud, _very _obvious, sound of dissent. "What are you doing, baby doll? Is this some sort of joke?"_  
_

Tris said nothing, in fear of saying something socially unacceptable.

"You are aware that Canary Yellow is for old people, right? Like really old people. Nita is not old people. So don't try it. It's just so...old."

Tris pursed her lips and stormed out of the room. Canary Yellow might be a little out there but it was definitely NOT _old._

"Oh, come on, baby doll, even you must be able to see that the colour would suck, especially for a room with as little light as this one. It's so strange, and it's way too yellow. Any interior designer with any sense would be able to see that the colour wouldn't work. Quite plainly, Canary Yellow will not work in this room, nor will it work in any other room that was meant to look good. So please don't be all huffy," Four cajoled.

Tris felt something snap. She wanted to give it back to him, and make him treat her like a real person, with real feelings and real opinions.

"You want me to be not... huffy," Tris said, letting incredulity mix with her tone.

"Well, yes baby doll. Don't pout and huff and storm out of the room, like you're doing now," Four tried.

"And how, Four dear, am I supposed to be **not huffy** when _all you do_ is make me huffy. You come in here and insult me and my choices, and then you tell me not to be huffy," Tris snapped.

She continued her rant. "I used to think you were a jerk. You seemed to have proved me wrong. Now I know that you are not only a first-class jerk but also an egoistical idiot who is so insensitive and blind to those around them that they might as be blind-folded."

Tris knew she was over-reacting but she didn't care. She was a human being and she deserved some respect. Ok, so maybe canary yellow didn't work, but there was a way to say so.

Her pride was wounded and Four was not helping.

"It's not even the damn yellow Four. It's the fact that you think you're so much better than everyone and think that this automatically makes you right, and discounts others emotions." This was Tris's broken heart speaking. The heartache she had felt from high school. It all came pouring out now, all the pent-up anger spilling its way out of her.

"Calm down, baby doll," Four whispered.

"I have a name, Four. **Tris**, is my name and you are not allowed to call me anything else," Tris shouted, annoyed by the constant use of the no doubt sarcastic endearment.

"You will always be baby doll to me, Tris," he said, in a voice that made her shiver.

That was the last straw. The possessiveness in his tone made her feel sick. He was talking like he owned her or something.

Nobody owned her, least of all him.

That. Was. It.

The Worst Thing He Could Have Said.

Tris raged inside. Suddenly there wasn't enough space inside of her to hold all the emotion. She let it out in a primal, angry roar.

"I hate you, Four."

She slammed the door and went outside.

* * *

SORRY!

Had to do that though. This will make the eventual Fourtris much sweeter.

Don't worry there **will** be Fourtris.

Lots of Fourtris.

Not really happy with this chapter though.

As always, reviews are appreciated. They really motivate and encourage us writers. So, keep 'em coming.

Thanks you, for all you support and reviews, guys.

Love,

Thoughts of a Fangirl.


	5. Of hallways and stupid gorilla monkeys

Do not faint, dear reader. It is I, I who is remorseful and regretful for not updating sooner. This is another chapter, and I apologise for the delay.

Don't kill me.

Spread the love, and read and review

**Disclaimer: We don't own the story, and ideas or characters.**

* * *

Tris remembered the first time she fought with her brother. He had stepped on her favourite toy and she had been mad. Quite mad.

She remembered the time she fought with her mother one day after graduation. Tris had wanted to move away from home, but her mother had protested. They had ended the fight with tears and hugs but Tris had been really mad, while the fight lasted.

And now she was...so mad that she couldn't even conjure up the word to describe it. It was like an inferno, that was fed by rage and hatred.

Saying she was mad was a joke. Saying she was really mad was an understatement.

Tris was seething.

And it was all him.

Her partner. Her tormentor.

The person who was currently following her in his sports car.

Tris was trying to ignore him. But all she could see was the flash of red in her rearview mirror, making him impossible to ignore. She turned on the radio to drown out her thoughts.

Great. Now he was beside her, revving his engine. Ugh!

"You can't beat me, baby doll."

Tris stepped on her accelerator. If that was a challenge, she would win.

* * *

Tris heard Four whoop with delight from beside her. He looked so...free. With the wind whipping through his hair and the unbridled passion, excitement and enthusiasm shining in his eyes, he looked...good. His eyes had a boyish quality and his smile was infectious. He was truly young, wild and free.

And not to mention attractive.

Very attractive.

Tris shook her head. She couldn't fall for him, not again. A broken heart was best to be avoided.

And besides, she had to win the race to her apartment.

* * *

She rounded the corner to her apartment. She had pulled in to the parking lot just seconds before Four had. She ran up the stairs and shut her apartment door just as Four jumped over the last stair. She peeked through the keyhole and saw Four standing there, a disgruntled expression on his face. She laughed and asked, "Are you just going to stand there?" "You know it, baby doll," he said, his voice hiding amusement.

He had just lost against her old, second-hand car in a SPORTS CAR and he still managed to be arrogant. Well, it didn't bother her. She would be the one laughing when he got cold and hungry, standing outside her door.

Who did that anyway? Standing outside our archenemies door was not a known move. Why did he care so much?

Tris shook her head. _Four _did not have a nice bone in is body. He just wanted to prove his point to her. She sighed and went inside to the kitchen.

Later, he was still there. It had been 3 hours and he was just standing there, the dim glow of his phone illuminating the hallway.

He let out a shout of triumph and shouted, "Take that you stupid, gorilla monkeys."

Tris couldn't help herself. She had to tease him. "Are you playing Temple Run?" she asked.

"Yes, and I just got a new high score. Four is savin' the day, one stupid gorilla monkey at a time."

Tris laughed, "That's it, it's official"

"What's official, baby doll?" he asked from the other side of the door.

"You're officially juvenile."

"I am so not juvenile. I am mature and smart and and,"

"And juvenile," Tris finished for him.

"You are so over your head, baby doll. I knew women played hard to get, but this is serious. You must really like me."

"I do not like you," she spluttered. "Plus I'm not the one standing in the cold outside you door, am I?"

"Just so you know, I am perfectly fine in this perfectly nice hallway, and you had nothing to do with the decision to stay here and trash stupid gorilla monkeys."

"You are so over your head, _Four_. I knew you can play hard to get, but this is serious. You must really like me," she mocked.

"If only you knew, baby doll. If only you knew " he muttered, in a voice that made shivers roll down her spine.

Tris didn't know what to think. It was late and she was tired. So she let it go and proceeded to waft the smells of her dinner through the door.

And even at night, when the moon cut a blade of light onto her pillow, and the world was silent and dark, his words played over in her head, haunting her and causing her to twist and turn. Finally at an inhumane hour, she found the courage to walk out of her bedroom. To walk up to her door and open it. To talk to him.

To talk to Four, and figure out what it was about him that drove her crazy.

* * *

YAY! FINISHED. ***victory dance***

Not really happy though.

Once again, reviews are always appreciated and motivate and inspire us.

Love, Hugs, Cookies and Stupid Gorilla Monkeys,

Thoughts of a Fangirl


	6. Of new beginnings and fashion advice

Hola, lovely viewers and fellow divergenters (Don't even ask...)

Anyway, new chapter. PM us any suggestions or comments.

Sorry for the miserable lack of updates, but they will be coming more frequently (maybe even daily...) from now on.

Spread the love... and read and review.

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, Veronica Roth wrote a story. Once upon a time, a bunch of girls read that story, and fell in love with it (especially a particular, super-cute, super-awesome, instructor called Four...) Anyway, that story that Veronica Roth wrote inspired them to write about **her** characters and to build upon **her **ideas, to share with the world.

So yeah, it's not ours.

* * *

The world had been orange when she had first met him. The trees had cast long shadows on the sidewalk and the world had been enveloped in the dust of spring. The sun had been a burning, pulsing point in the sky, and the long buildings had created a latticework of black on the footpath.

A dance of light and dark, of old and new, of change and constant.

The electricity that came with change had been tangible, a constant charge that made everything feel dangerous, as if it was hanging on a precipice.

Tris still remembered how hard she had fallen.

One look at those eyes, that at the time had seemed to her like a mixture of home and safety, and she was gone.

Those blue eyes that had pulled her in, and left her no choice but to go with them.

Of course, she had known him. He was famous, almost in the sense of stardom in their community. How could she not know him? The handsome Four, heartbreaker and hearthrob.

But she hadn't expected to find that the formidable Four was a fluffy, sweet, secret hopeless romantic. Well he had been, at least, until he had publicly declared himself out of her league and rejected her for some other girl. In front of the entire student body no less.

It hadn't hurt as much as she had thought it would. Everyone had given her looks filled with pity for weeks, but she didn't really feel they were justified.

So he had dumped her. She had seen it coming anyway.

So he had 'broken' her heart. She had seen that coming anyway.

So he had made her cry for weeks on end. She didn't care.

So he had made her feel worthless. She absolutely wasn't affected by that anymore.

At least that's what she told herself.

When the pain had made everything black and void and lifeless, she told herself that she didn't care about him. It was her mantra, her survival prayer. It was the only thing that shed some sort of light, no matter how sick and twisted it was, into her dark and long days.

_She didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care._

But the sad truth was, no matter how many years she spent telling herself the lie, cajoling and convincing, it didn't work.

She did care.

And she still cared.

And she didn't think she'd ever stop caring.

* * *

She ran out her door, to find Four still on his phone now playing some sort of game that elicited a lot of angry 'no you didn't's' and groaning from him.

She stood, waiting for him to notice her.

"Hi, baby doll, I was just about to-

Tris cut him off, a feeling of irritation rising up in her. She was tired of his constant talking and bantering. She still didn't know why on earth he was still here. And she wouldn't ever find out if all they conversed about was how 'stupid gorilla monkeys' and temple run were juvenile.

"Four, what are you still doing here?"

He looked flustered.

But then his face changed and a look of steely determination found its way into his eyes.

"I needed to see your face when I asked you why," he almost-whispered.

"Asked me why...?" Tris asked, confused.

"Why you hated me, Tris. I needed to see your face when I asked you why you hated me."

Tris blushed. His words and his tone was so sincere.

"I don't hate you..." she trailed off, wincing at the uncertainty in her tone.

Apparently, Four heard it to, as his face visibly fell.

"Why does it matter anyway?" Tris inquired, desperate to change the subject.

"It just does, baby doll." His words were so vulnerable and truthful and honest and...

_She didn't care..._

"I don't hate you, I just thoroughly dislike you. Let's just say I haven't quite crossed the line between hate and unlike yet," Tris said. She was shocked to hear the truth in her words. She didn't hate him. She was just... confused by him.

His eyes lit up, and he then inquired, "But you said, earlier, when you stomped out the door, that you hated me. Was that a lie?"

"No, stupid, it was just a spur of the moment thing."

"Well good, because the only reason I was asking was because I needed to make sure you were mentally stable. Because no one in their right mind could hate me. I mean, have you looked at me," he said, and quick as a summer breeze Four was back, brash and bold.

"I really don't think you're all that, you know," Tris said.

"Sure you don't," Four laughed, amusement lining his voice.

"Anyway, baby doll, did you know there's a work paintball fight tomorrow? Team building experience or whatever," Four stated.

"And since, you are on my team, I figured we should start anew. Like just start again. Erase any history between us. Otherwise we are never going to survive the next 3 months it will take to do Nita's house. Not with you going at my throat every 5 minutes," he said.

Then Tris knew he was slightly remorseful for what he had done, that fateful day many years ago. That was enough for Tris. And he was right, they really needed to have a professional relationship. Preferably one that didn't involve slamming doors and declarations of hatred.

So, she held out her hand, "Hi Four, I'm Tris. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He shook it and Tris felt sparks shoot through her, warming and cooling her blood. _Professional, Tris, Professional._

"The pleasure's all mine, baby doll," Four said, irony dancing in his eyes.

"That doesn't work you know. Calling someone you just met, baby doll," Tris huffed.

"I don't know what you mean," he said.

And then he left with a wink.

* * *

Tris knew she was about to regret it. But she really didn't have any choice. She wanted to make an impression, and well...Four was there.

Not that she wanted to impress him or anything. Heavens no, she just wanted to let her know she wasn't worthless and could hold her own.

She picked up her phone, fearing for her life.

"Uh, Christina, I have this work thing tomorrow, and well I was wondering if you would, well, help me pick out something to wear," Tris stumbled.

Christina emitted a scream, that probably could be heard all the way in Croatia.

"Someone notify the police, Tris is asking for fashion advice. Oh, I've been waiting for this day for so long," Christina squealed.

Tris put her head in her hands and sighed.

She was done for.

Completely and utterly, done for.

* * *

A.N. Hahahahahah... Evil makeover scene next...Gotta love Christina though

Read and review, they really inspire and motivate us. Extra reviews might mean daily updates...

Love,

Thoughts of a Fangirl


	7. Of evil makeovers and paintball guns

I updated!

Anyway, love you all and la la la la, J.K. Rowling posted a new Harry Potter Short Story thing. YAY!

**Disclaimer: All rights to Veronica Roth. We don't own anything.**

* * *

"Just relax, Tris," Christina said.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one being violated," Tris grumbled.

This didn't elicit a response from Christina. She had only been listening to Tris whining for the past 45 minutes.

Tris groaned and tried to relax.

"Good, now look up at the ceiling," Christina demanded.

Tris sighed and obeyed...until she saw the black brush heading right for her eyes.

She shrieked and leaned away.

"You're going to poke my eye out," Tris protested.

"No, I'm not, now be quiet and suck it up," Christina replied, obviously frustrated at the non-compliance her best friend was demonstrating.

Christina emitted yet another growl, "Hold still, Tris. You made me smudge it."

Tris winced. "Do you have to start again?"

Christina surveyed the damage with a critical eye.

"After close surveillance, I have decided that yes I must start again," Christina said, a hint of evil bordering her voice.

"You pansycake, you did this on purpose," Tris whined.

"You bought it upon yourself, dear Tris," Christina laughed.

"Oh, come on Chris, it's not really that bad. Nothing that can't be salvaged. Please don't start again," Tris pleaded.

Christina said nothing, but bought the mascara wand back to Tris's already abused (make-up caked) eyes.

Tris let out a sigh and resigned herself to the torture she had inflicted upon herself.

* * *

After hours of smudging and trying again, Tris was finally relieved of the torturous process that people called getting ready.

Shudder.

Now it was time for...shopping.

Christina bounded down the stairs of her apartment building.

"Oh, I am so excited. This is going to be soooo fun. Right, Tris?"

"Yeah, totally. Yay and all that...," Tris managed, her voice thin.

Christina rolled her eyes.

"You could at least try to sound excited," Christina reprimanded.

Tris rolled her eyes in response.

"Well, I was going to go easy on you after that very long make-up session, but I could always change my mind...," Christina stated.

Tris gulped. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to act like a girly girl.

"Oh my goodness, I am so excited. I mean this is like a dream come true. I just love shopping," Tris squealed, her voice sounding extremely nasally and high-pitched.

Christina winced.

"Was I that bad?" Tris inquired.

"Do you want the truth?"asked Christina.

"Uhhh...yes?" Tris stuttered, fearing for her life.

"You will not be going to hollywood soon, girl," Christina stated.

"Well I already knew that," Tris chuckled.

"Now, come on you. The faster we start, the faster it will be over," Tris said.

Laughing, Christina tugged on Tris's arm and led her into the shopping centre.

* * *

"So how was it?" Christina asked, still on a high from their shopping trip.

"If I never see a shopping bag again, it will be too soon," Tris whined, her feet aching.

"Oh well I guess I'll just have to postpone our pedicure appointment then," Christina said and then proceeded to laugh evilly.

"Oh no, you didn't Christina Drahos*," Tris exclaimed.

"Calm yourself, dearie, I was joking," Christina said.

"Well then, let's go," Tris retorted, eager to get out of the dreaded shopping mall.

* * *

Multi-coloured lights flickered on and off, turning the dance floor into a fairyland of acid greens and ice whites. Smoke curled around the mass of gyrating bodies, obscuring them in a fog of white. Lasers shot out, creating a latticework of hot pink and orange on the dance floor.

Tris, after what seemed like hours of deliberation and debate with Christina, was wearing a simple black top with lace detail on the shoulders and neckline, which showed the three black birds inked on her collarbone. This was coupled with very, very tight black pants and a pair of black peep toes. She was wearing a necklace which was a swooping, detailed piece of artistry and depicted a bird in flight and her hair was twisted into a french braid headband which then fell into a messy bun. Her makeup was understated (because Christina would have been _dead _otherwise) but her eyes were outlined in mascara and eye make-up to make them pop.

She looked noticeable, striking. She didn't look exactly pretty but looked like someone who demanded attention, a person whom you had to look at.

She still thought she looked like a slightly feminine version of the Grim Reaper though, despite Christina's persuasion otherwise.

The paintball 'arena' was inside the club, which meant she had to get through the hundreds of twisting, moving bodies.

She made her way through the crowd, to the paintball area, until she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry," Tris muttered and moved to step back but the stranger didn't let go.

"You can run into me anytime."

A jolt of recognition shot through Tris. She lifted her eyes to Four who was looking at her, an amused expression lining his face.

"Oh it's you," she grumbled.

She brushed herself off and stood up.

"I...oh...you..um..you..um...I..um..um..I'm...uh...um..going to get a drink," Four mumbled, staring at her.

He made his way across the room, still staring at her. She stared back, bewilderment sparkling in her eyes.

He suddenly broke eye contact...just in time to spill punch all over himself. She laughed, and he looked up again, a flash of emotion passing through his eyes.

Tris was trying to figure out why guys were so difficult when she bumped into yet another person.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to bump into you," Tris mumbled, to the tall, well-built male standing in front of her.

"That's okay, sweetheart," a voice said back.

Tris couldn't believe it. Yet another person who seemed to think using an endearment in substitution for a name was okay. She rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Uh, hi I'm Tris," Tris said, as way of greeting.

"Oh, I know," the voice said, apparently amused.

"Uh right," Tris's random creepy stranger who might be dangerous radar was going crazy. She had to get out of there and fast.

"Um I think I hear someone calling me," Tris said and then winced at the obvious lie. "I'll, uh, see you later then," she continued, trying to salvage the situation.

"Well, I'm Uriah," the man said.

"Nice to meet you, Uriah," she said before making her way to Four who was on the other side of the room.

* * *

It turned out that Uriah was charming, funny and extremely nice, though a little on the flirtatious side. He kept on getting death glares from Four, though she didn't understand why. Uriah was awesome and definitely not a stalkerish creep, which was always a relief. He was on her paintball team and they were now getting suited up.

Tris gulped. She didn't know how to use a paintball gun, and had no desire to embarrass herself in front of all her new colleagues. She turned to Four, who was behind her. They were at the back of the line and the only two left in the room.

"Uh, do you mind teaching me how to use the paintball gun. It's just I've never used one before, and I don't want to embarrass myself," Tris muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

As a way of answering he handed her a gun and positioned himself behind her.

"Hold it like this," he said, his lips dangerously close to her earlobe, his breath making her bones into liquid.

She tried, but the close proximity was messing with her ability to speak.

"Not like that, baby doll. Like this."

He then wrapped an arm around her waist, his large hands nearly enclosing her hips.

She sucked in a breath.

Her brain was short circuiting.

Her heart was on overdrive.

Her blood was warm.

Her body was frozen.

It was him, she realised. Something about him that made her want to melt into a pool of liquid or burst into flames.

He then let go, but not before whispering into her ear, "Glad to be of help, baby doll."

And then proceeded to walk out of the room, leaving Tris breathless and yet somehow feeling very alive.

That didn't even make sense.

But this feeling didn't make sense either. It felt so wrong, yet it felt as if she needed it to live.

If this was wrong, she didn't ever want to be right.

* * *

**A.N.**

* I saw this as Christina's last name on IMBD and since I had no idea what her actual last name is, I went with it. If you do however know, let me know, cause I really want to find out.

YAY! Equivalent to ferris wheel scene next! PM us if you want it done a particular way or want something to be included, cause honestly I'm lacking inspiration. Big time.

Please keep the reviews coming. Cause we all know they make the worl go around ;)

Anyway, thanks for reading and for the endless support.

Love,

Thoughts of a Fangirl


	8. Of paintball wars and unabashed flirting

**Disclaimer: We don't own anything AT all. Otherwise things would have gone differently, and Four would be a real guy. **

**I wish, sigh.**

* * *

Tris walked into the 'arena.' Strobe lights flickered on and off, creating a criss-cross of colour. Tris made her way over to the small group of people, her breath shallow from her past encounter. Four was the first to look at her. His blue eyes twinkled, creating a rush of blood blush. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

She could definitely handle jocks with sports cars. Even if they had beautiful eyes and heart-melting smiles...

She heard a man shout, "Go," breaking her from her reverie. This was then followed by a stampede of people, running, their voices high and laughing.

Suddenly her arm was being grabbed, and she was being pulled backwards, away from the onslaught of people. The arm tugged her to a quiet corner (as quiet as you could get in a room full of screaming people,) and then without a word, pushed her in the other direction.

Tris sighed. Without of mysterious arm to guide her, she had no idea what she was doing.

A bubble of laughter made its way out of her before she could stop it.

Tris was in a paintball arena.

With a potentially dangerous weapon.

With no one to 'check' on her.

Damn it, she was going to enjoy this.

With a scream echoing from her lips, a war cry of sorts, she headed into the crowd, paintball gun in hand.

* * *

Gosh, this was fun. Colours flying everywhere, the scent of sweat and paint coating the air. The occasional thud of a paintball hitting its mark.

And the laughter. Gosh, the laughter was glorious. A whole symphony of highs and low, shrieks and wails of mock fear and excitement punctuated the air, the soundtrack of the evening.

She was like a kid in a candy store. She ran around, a streak of colour, hitting everything and everyone she could find.

Then there was smoke. White, thick fog, obscuring their vision, adding to the enthralment of the experience. Something about running around without being able to see anything with a gun in hand was particularly adrenaline-inducing, Tris had found.

Forget the new car, she wanted a paintball gun for her birthday.

* * *

After the fight, still on a high she was sitting with some of her work associates (she couldn't quite call them her _friends yet._) She went up to grab a soda and saw Four at the counter, his blue eyes twinkling. She was about to get lost in the way Four lit up when he laughed, the way his whole body shook. But then she saw the brunette. The gorgeous brunette.

Nita.

Who just so happened to be at the bar they were at.

Who just so happened to be openly flirting with Four. Forget about subtle, this girl was doing the whole thing. She even fluttered her eyelashes once or twice.

And Four was totally enchanted by her simpering laugh and twirling hair. His blue eyes were completely trained on Nita and he looked like he really liked her.

She felt a rage in her stomach that threatened to consume her.

And in that very moment Tris knew that she was definitely over Four.

She had to stay away from him. The past was the past, and their silly high-school romance was just that, nothing more than a silly thing.

She picked up her soda and left, her head held high.

* * *

She walked back to her table and made an extra effort to join in the conversation, laughing too hard at punchlines. Every time she blinked she saw Four and Nita and she...

She just wanted to punch something (or someone.)

As the night progressed the conversation became easier and she walked out feeling slightly better. She now only wanted to throw something, which was good. A sure sign Tris was over Four.

She had been lying to herself, she still liked Four. But it was too dangerous for her too continue this charade. She was now going to be immune to his sarcastic endearments and blue eyes.

And it was going to stay that way.

* * *

***hides behind wall***

**Don't kill me...maybe?**


	9. Of promotions and unfair fights

**Disclaimer: We don't anything otherwise David would be DEAD!**

**And Nita would be severely injured.**

**YAY, quick update!**

* * *

_A month after the paintball fight_

Tris knocked on the door hesitantly. She didn't know the reason for this sudden impromptu meeting but she had a nagging suspicion that it wasn't entirely good. She passed Uriah on the hall and he winked at her. They had become firm friends and Tris had come to love his joking side.

She pushed the door open, her palms sweaty. It wasn't everyday you were called into your boss' office.

She stumbled inside and sat on the armchair facing the desk.

"Hello, Eric,' she said.

* * *

Tris was on cloud nine. She had been offered a promotion.

Now that she had passed the initiation of sorts, she was gaining more and more respect in the office everyday.

She continued ambling down the office in her happy reverie, until she walked into a brick wall. She looked up into the face of Peter.

Suddenly his hand was around her throat, blocking her oxygen supply, making her gasp for air.

Snapshots of colour swan in front of her eyes, a kaleidoscope of fluorescent colours.

Blue, red, green swam in front of her eyes.

She couldn't even remember a time where she wasn't gasping for air, that's all life was now. Gasping and flailing and hoping and praying for this to be a joke.

It wasn't a joke.

Orange, yellow, silver swirled in front of her and dots of light made their way into her vision.

Suddenly the pressure was lessened from her throat and she stumbled over, gasping and choking for air.

Peter growled at her, his voice scraping and metallic. She tried to hold it in but a whimper struggled its way out of her.

It sounded weak, helpless. Just like she was.

"Stiff", Peter growled, using the derogatory term reserved for the workers of Abnegation.

She whimpered again, his eyes large and threatening against her own.

'So, _stiff, _heard about the new promotion. Well here's the thing. You don't deserve that promotion. You've been here for a month and I've been here since forever. So what you're gonna do is decline the promotion and ask Eric to offer it to me. Got it?" Peter snarled.

Tris stayed silent, her voice having deserted her.

"I said, _got it."_

Tris felt fear emerge in the pit of her stomach, blossoming and feeding on her body and bones, turning her into a mess of nerves and quivering.

What if he hurt her. What if he killed her. God, what if he touched her.

It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears.

"Stiff, I asked you a question. Now, you open your pretty little mouth and answer it, or there'll be trouble. Don't want to mess up your pretty face, do we," he barked, his voice taking on a new edge of anger.

Quaking, Tris raised her hand and punched him straight on the mouth. Her hand stung from the impact but she continued to punch him.

Peter smirked, obviously not affected by her blows.

"Oh so you wanna do it _that _way. We can do it that way," he said rolling up his sleeves.

Tris circled around him, looking for a place to strike. She dodged, hitting his eye socket, which drew a grunt of pain from Peter.

"Didn't think you had it in you Stiff," he snickered, like a teacher congratulating her for learning to spell a word.

His condescending tone released a torrent of rage from Tris, who struck out, hitting every inch of flesh she could find.

"What the hell is your problem Peter? I deserve that promotion and you know it. You're just being stupid and jealous," Tris cried, still punching him.

"You know what my problem is Stiff? You. You're my problem. I don't like you," he said his voice rising in volume.

He then caught hold of her arm, and pinned it behind her back. He twisted, making her arm burn and her head spin.

"Pick on someone your own size Peter," she cried out, the pain making black spots dance across her vision.

"But that would be the noble thing to do, Stiff. And I am anything but noble. So how 'bout we this 4 to 1, hey?" Peter laughed, a cruel twisted sound.

Shadows in the doorway solidified into figures. Peter hadn't been lying. it was going to be 4 to 1. She started laughing, a quick breathy chuckle. She continued to laugh, her tone rising hysterically. She was going to die. In an office, with 4 people trying to kill her.

She kept laughing, a cascade of sobbing breaths falling out of her mouth.

She gasped and panted and laughed, praying for it to be over.

The 4 of them surrounded her.

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

**So it would appear I suck at fight scenes. FEEDBACK PLEASE!**

**Spread the love and read and review**

**Sorry for the cliffie, though!**

**It will get better. But life isn't all kissy and happy and I have to stick somewhat to the plot of Divergent.**

**Love,**

**Thoughts of a Fangirl**


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